


A Single Difference

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Death, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: In which the circumstances of the death of a fellow Section II agent hits home for Napoleon and especially Illya.





	A Single Difference

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after and references my “Deadly Admirer Affair” fic. Also, Illya performing autopsies is canon in the official novels.

It was a somber day at U.N.C.L.E. HQ. For the last three weeks, Section II agent Tomson had been in Medical since he had been found and brought back from a failed mission in terrible condition.

Medical had done what they could for Agent Tomson, but he had slipped into a coma—one that he never awakened from; he had passed away that morning, and Illya, having just returned from an international mission he’d been on with Napoleon, had been assigned to do the autopsy.

The Russian diligently spent the next several hours in the morgue; he had just been finishing up when Napoleon entered.

“Illya?” he asked, looking everywhere except at the table. He still couldn’t stomach the sight of an autopsy, yet he did want to spend his free time with Illya; this often resulted in very awkward moments such as this one whenever Illya had to conduct an autopsy, with Napoleon doing everything he could to avoid having to look at it.

“You can look this time, Napoleon; you are uncannily right on time and have missed everything,” Illya said, quietly, as he closed the drawer with Tomson’s body. “I have just finished with Agent Tomson, poor man. Have you notified his family?”

“He doesn’t have any,” Napoleon said, also quietly. “I’ve spent the whole day trying to do my duty as CEA and inform his next of kin. But he didn’t have any emergency contacts or anyone to notify. I finally got in touch with one of his former partners who confirmed that Tomson didn’t have any next of kin.”

Illya exhaled.

“Well, that would account for why no one visited him in Medical all this time,” he said, with a slight shake of his head.

“And his only friends were the ones he had made here at U.N.C.L.E.—and we’ve all been busy dealing THRUSH’s latest shenanigans that we didn’t have anyone to spare to look in on him. Tomson spent weeks comatose in Medical, all alone.”

“As you said, we have been busy; we’ve been on missions nonstop for the last few weeks, as well…”

“I know,” Napoleon said. “Still, the thought of dying all alone…” He shuddered. “Tomson was a good man; he didn’t deserve that.”

“You are correct,” Illya agreed. “He most certainly did not.”

“Did you figure out what caused him to go into the coma in the first place?” Napoleon asked.

“I did,” the Russian said, indicating a sample box with a bright orange warning sticker stuck on it. “His blood is in there for testing to confirm it, but all of my findings so far indicate that the cause of Agent Tomson’s death was a poison administered by THRUSH during his capture.” He paused; now, it was Illya’s turn to shudder.

“What is it?” Napoleon asked, concerned.

“Napoleon, do you remember Mills, one of the lab technicians from Section VIII? The one who poisoned me because he thought that I deserved to be punished with death for what happened during the Gurnius Affair?”

Napoleon’s expression darkened; of course, he remembered all too well.

“I remember,” he muttered. “Why?”

“Napoleon, it was the same poison that Mills used on me—the exact same poison, and almost an identical dose.” He swallowed a growing lump in his throat as Napoleon suddenly whirled around to face him, clearly thinking what Illya was thinking.

“But if it’s the exact same poison and the exact same dose…” Napoleon trailed off, momentarily allowing his gaze to fall on the drawer with Tomson’s body before looking back at Illya. “Then…”

“…Then that could have easily been me lying comatose for weeks,” Illya realized. “And that could have been me, lying here in one of these drawers.”

“Illya--”

“I am about as equally fit as Tomson,” Illya continued. “Though he may have had a bit more bulk than I do. And his background is identical to mine—no blood relatives left alive, and my only close acquaintances are my fellow U.N.C.L.E. agents…”

Napoleon was staring at Illya with a grateful, and at the same time, pained expression as the alternate possibilities haunted his mind.

“I don’t know what it is you had that made you pull through when Tomson couldn’t,” he said. “But I’m glad you had it.”

“It was you, Napoleon.”

“…Huh?”

“You were my ‘secret’ to survival, as it was,” Illya said. “There is one thing I remember clearly during the haze of it all, and that was your constant presence—your voice, repeatedly talking to me, telling me not to give up and to keep fighting.”

Napoleon wasn’t surprised that Illya had heard him in spite of his condition; after all, Napoleon had been on the receiving end of Medical vigils and had always heard Illya’s voice through the fog in his brain. It only made sense that Illya would have sensed and felt the same, as well.

“Tomson here did not have anyone to support him,” Illya continued. “Is it any wonder that he did not recover?”

“And you did, just because I was there, talking to you?” Napoleon asked. “Did that seriously make all the difference?”

“Evidently so,” Illya said. “There is no other reason I can think of, and no other possibility in this autopsy, for why someone who was in the same shape as I was—perhaps in slightly better shape—would lose to the very same poison that I managed to overcome. Sometimes, having something—or, in this case, someone—worth fighting for makes the difference entirely. Several doctors have anecdotal evidence that suggests that patients with strong support networks have better chances at recovery.”

“I’m glad you made it,” Napoleon said, sincerely.

“And I am grateful that you helped me do so,” Illya replied.

The biggest secret to their success was each other. And they would never take that for granted.


End file.
